


draped in painted light

by soobun



Category: Cravity (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, the bravery that comes with a vaguely liminal space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29526093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soobun/pseuds/soobun
Summary: In the print shop's darkroom, Hyeongjun sees Minhee in a new light—literally, and figuratively.
Relationships: Kang Minhee/Song Hyeongjun
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	draped in painted light

**Author's Note:**

> for a. ♡ happy late valentines T__T
> 
> [title.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CnqWWqGlZMg)

“How can you spend so much time back here?” Hyeongjun says, one cold October evening. 

“I like it here,” Minhee says, sounding like he’s frowning. “Don’t you?”

They’re in the darkroom at the print shop, where Minhee’s in charge of handling the delicate stuff—the polaroids, the light-sensitive film. He’s witnessed Seongmin hiding out back there, too, when he’s overwhelmed and needs a second to himself. All the delicate things.

“I’d like it better if I could see further than half a meter in front of me,” Hyeongjun says. “How do you do it?”

“You get used to it,” Minhee says, pattering around, trying to get a set of photos ready for a customer to pick up later today. Something about nighttime wildlife filmography. Very serious. “Do you want me to show you?”

“That’s…” Hyeongjun says, trailing off. The higher-ups at the shop don’t really trust him with the high-tech stuff, not after the Great Copy Machine Disaster of 2020. Who knew those things were so expensive, and so _fragile?_ He’s here for his customer service skills, but even so—he doesn’t claim to be in the running for employee of the month any time soon. 

“I’ll _show_ you,” Minhee says, “not _let you try._ I think we’ve all learned our lesson with that one.” Ah. Of course Minhee still remembers one of his most embarrassing moments. They’ve known each other for a couple years now, but it feels like they became lifelong friends almost immediately. It sounds ridiculous, but after moving away from his hometown, nothing feels more like home than bickering with Minhee, at this shop that’s become something that feels like _theirs._

“Leave me alone,” Hyeongjun says, half-heartedly. “I guess you can show me.”

“Come over here,” Minhee says, from what sounds like across the tiny room. “You’re still by the door, right?”

“How am I supposed to know,” Hyeongjun mutters, sticking his arms out so he doesn’t bump into anything, tentatively moving forward.

It doesn’t work, because he immediately stubs his toe a few steps later. “ _Ow,_ ” he whines, trying not to collapse to the floor. How does this always happen to him?

“How does this always happen to you?” Minhee says, suddenly close, his voice right behind Hyeongjun’s left ear. “Just come forward a few more steps.” Minhee’s hand, right above his elbow, is large and warm.

“I think this is already a bad sign,” Hyeongjun says, heart rate picking up. “Maybe I should go back out.” 

“Nope, you’re already here,” Minhee says. They’ve reached a long table, presumably where the chemicals are. Hyeongjun scrunches up his nose. 

“You get used to the smell, too,” Minhee adds. Minhee, majoring in photography, knows a lot about this stuff. It makes sense for him to work here. (As for Hyeongjun, well. It’s three blocks away from his apartment, and slightly above minimum wage. That’s all he needs.) 

Hyeongjun coughs. “I’ll take your word for it,” he says. 

He feels more than hears Minhee’s slight laugh. “I already checked the temp of the mixture,” Minhee says. “Now we just have to pour it in the film tank.”

Hyeongjun is about to say _How can you see what you’re doing?_ before he realizes that he too can see, albeit blurrily, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. The soft red light that permeates the room reflecting in the chemicals on the table. The fuzzy shape of Minhee’s hands. 

Hyeongjun watches Minhee hold the small tank up to eye level as he pours. Then he watches him shake the container, gently. Sets it down on the table. 

“You weren’t lying about not letting me do anything,” Hyeongjun says, both relieved and a little miffed.

“This guy hunts animals at night for fun,” Minhee says, “I’m really not trying to get on his bad side.” Hyeongjun has dealt with this specific customer before. He knows what he means. 

Hyeongjun starts to sigh exaggeratedly, until Minhee says, “Well—here.” Suddenly there’s a pair of gloves in his hands. “Put these on.” 

Hyeongjun does as he’s told. “You’re supposed to agitate the film every fifty seconds or so,” Minhee says, picking the tank back up. “But gently.” He puts the tank in Hyeongjun’s hands, and doesn’t take his own off. Their arms are touching, shoulders to fingertips. “You have to kind of…”

Minhee starts maneuvering Hyeongjun’s hands, rolling the tank forwards, backwards, turning it upside down, a sense of assurance in all of his movements. Hyeongjun lets himself be moved, tries to get a feel for this thing Minhee’s demonstrably so passionate about. “Do you get it?” Minhee asks.

Hyeongjun’s not sure that he would use that phrase, but he’s definitely not going to forget about this specific feeling any time soon. “Yeah,” he manages to say, with minimal wavering in his voice. 

Hyeongjun is usually pretty good at keeping his feelings under check. He and Minhee are so clearly _friends,_ always playing and fighting and making fun of each other. It’s only during moments like this that Hyeongjun remembers how deeply, deeply screwed he is.

Minhee leads their still-joined hands back to the table, setting the container down. Hyeongjun tries to be normal about quickly removing his hand. “We have to do that at least five more times,” Minhee says. “And then we can finally put it in the big tank.” There’s only the slightest ripple of movement when Hyeongjun squints to look at the chemicals in the “big tank,” which is basically just a container the size of a foot bath. “And then we can hang the film to dry.” Minhee finishes.

“Seems pretty complicated,” Hyeongjun says. 

“You weren’t even here for the first half,” Minhee says, smiling. “I don’t have that many strengths. Let me have this.”

“You do, though,” Hyeongjun says, or blurts, still a little discombobulated from all the touching. Oh no.

“Ehh~?” Minhee says, sounding like an idiot. “Is this my biannual Hyeongjun compliment?” 

“No,” Hyeongjun says, turning red. “That wasn’t me.”

“Then who was it?” Minhee says, laughing. “Have you been possessed by someone who can actually say nice things?”

Accurate, sort of. Hyeongjun literally doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. “I think the chemical fumes are getting to my head,” he says. “Let’s pretend that didn’t happen.” 

“But I want to know about my other strengths,” Minhee says. He lifts up the small tank again, rolls it around in his hands a few times. “Since there’s obviously so many!” 

“You bother me like no other person I’ve ever met,” Hyeongjun says.

“One of my best qualities, I’d say,” Minhee says. “That one’s mutual.”

“It better be,” Hyeongjun mutters, watching Minhee put the tank back down. Minhee’s leaning one hip against the table, casual, legs crossed at the ankles. It’s—Hyeongjun’s always known Minhee was competent, when it comes to certain things, but there’s something about his cool ease and quick hands in this dark, tiny room that’s making Hyeongjun feel like he’s losing his mind. 

“You’re good at dealing with Seongmin, too,” Hyeongjun says, for some reason. Why is he bringing this up?

Hyeongjun sees Minhee blink a few times in the darkness. “Yeah?” Minhee says, sounding unsure. Seongmin doesn’t even technically work here, but he picks up shifts every now and then. (Woobin, their manager, isn’t above trying to extort labor wherever he can find it.) Minhee made a hilarious noise when he saw Seongmin for the first time, and has semi-officially taken him under his wing. Hyeongjun is totally cool about it. 

“Yeah,” Hyeongjun says. He’s witnessed Seongmin burst into the shop at all hours of the day, long face, stomping back to the darkroom. Minhee trailed him tentatively the first time, but after what seemed to be a success, Minhee continues to follow Seongmin loyally. An overgrown Maltese to the end. And well, it works, if Seongmin’s tentative smiles are anything to go by. “The kid definitely likes you.”

“The kid,” Minhee repeats, laughing again. “You’re not even a year older than him.”

“Neither are you,” Hyeongjun says, not sure what point he’s trying to make. Minhee raises an eyebrow. “Anyway. I was just saying. You do a good job.”

“Well,” Minhee says. “It’s not like you would do it.” Minhee finds Hyeongjun and Seongmin’s interminable awkwardness with each other endlessly amusing. It’s not Hyeongjun’s fault that being with Seongmin sometimes feels like looking in a funhouse mirror. He’s never been one for self-reflection. 

But he can reflect enough to know that Minhee’s a little bit of a saint, though—if not harboring a slight masochistic streak. “Do you want to do it this time?” Minhee says, picking up the tank, startling Hyeongjun out of his thoughts. “I’ll trust you not to drop it.”

“No promises,” Hyeongjun says, mirroring Minhee’s pose, leaning against the counter. Hyeongjun doesn’t think he’s imagining the way Minhee pauses as their fingers touch, when he passes him the film. He spins the container. 

“Got any other of my amazing strengths yet?” Minhee asks, after a second, angling his body towards Hyeongjun’s. When Hyeongjun looks over to glare at him, he notices, not for the first time, how many centimeters he has to lift his gaze to meet his eyes. He doesn’t generally like feeling small, but it’s not a wholly uncomfortable experience, when he feels it like this. 

“You’re tall,” Hyeongjun says, still rotating the tank.

“Is that a strength?” Minhee asks, eyes flickering from Hyeongjun’s hands to his face. 

“Some people would say so,” Hyeongjun says. 

“Not you?” 

“I don’t know,” Hyeongjun says, still looking at him. “The neck strain, and all.”

Minhee looks amused. “Not the neck strain,” he says, faux-sympathetic.

“You should reflect,” Hyeongjun says. “Maybe from now on you should squat whenever you’re talking to me.” 

“Is that not, uh,” Minhee takes a moment. “Patronizing?”

“Struggling with high school vocabulary, Kang Minhee?” Hyeongjun says, putting the tank on the table between him and Minhee. This sort of conversation feels much more familiar. Hyeongjun almost relaxes, and then Minhee hits him with:

“It’s hard to think properly around you, sometimes.”

A pause. Minhee probably realizes how that sounded, because he says, “Um,” at the same time Hyeongjun starts, “That’s—”

“Sorry,” Minhee says, “God, sorry.”

“No, it’s—”

“It’s the chemical fumes, like you said,” Minhee says. “Ignore me.”

Hyeongjun could ignore him. But is this not the opportunity he’s been waiting for—an opportunity that he never thought would come? Hyeongjun has never been one to squander a chance like this. He doesn’t know how to live with regrets. 

“I’ve figured it out,” Hyeongjun says. “You being tall definitely isn’t a strength.”

Minhee just looks confused. “What?”

Hyeongjun steels himself. “It makes it harder to do this,” he says, before raising himself on his tiptoes, so that he’s almost nose-to-nose with Minhee. Minhee’s pupils are blown wide. He waits.

Minhee swallows. “Are you going to…”

“I wanted you to ask first,” Hyeongjun says, a bit coyly. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Minhee says, before he bends down and finally closes the distance between them. 

And, well, Hyeongjun would be lying if he said the first press of their lips together didn’t make him feel a bit lightheaded. Like the ground under his feet has shifted, slightly.

Hyeongjun looks at Minhee, after he pulls away. The red light, making his hair look extra black. His strong eyebrows, his bright eyes. His mouth, pulled up into that tiny smile that drives him up the wall. 

Hyeongjun goes to lift himself up again, but Minhee stops him. “Wait,” he says. “We have to move the film one more time. And then put it in the big tank before it dries up and hardens.” 

“Employee of the month over here,” Hyeongjun says, a little piqued at the rebuff, but ultimately charmed. The opposing emotions that Minhee inspires in him are a marvel, truly. 

“Just wait a second,” Minhee says, picking up and fumbling the tank. “Like, thirty seconds.”

“Shall I count?” Hyeongjun says, tapping his foot on the floor.

Minhee glares at him, the effect lessened by the fact that Hyeongjun can clearly see the corners of his upper lip twitching. “I’m going to make you deal with the guy if this film doesn’t turn out.” 

“You’re the one who almost dropped it,” Hyeongjun says, poking Minhee in the arm, almost ridiculously pleased.

“You’re the one flirting with me,” Minhee says, still rolling the film. “In my _safe space._ ”

“You’re the one who said you can’t even _think_ around me,” Hyeongjun says, not used to bickering making his heart race so much. “What was I _supposed_ to do—”

In one quick motion, Minhee has the tank set back down on the table behind him, and Hyeongjun pressed against the counter on the opposite side. “I’m going to tell Woobin-hyung to make a sign for this room,” Minhee says, breath on Hyeongjun’s cheekbone, “ _Song Hyeongjun not allowed._ ” 

God. Kang Minhee having this much power over him isn’t sustainable. To get some leverage back, and also just because he wants to, Hyeongjun lifts himself up again, hands around Minhee’s shoulder, and pulls him back down for another kiss. 

This is quickly becoming Hyeongjun’s favorite way to shut Minhee up. He, perhaps shortsightedly, didn’t realize how soft Minhee’s lips were, not to mention how attentive of a kisser he would be. The only issue is the aforementioned neck strain. The counter digging into his back isn’t great either. He shifts, and Minhee pulls back. 

“Are you okay?” Minhee asks, hand at Hyeongjun’s waist. “I—nevermind.”

“What?” Hyeongjun asks, catching his breath.

“I’ve always wanted to, um,” Minhee says, “like, lift you on the counter?” Hyeongjun can see his face reddening, even in the already red light. “But I’d never forgive myself if I accidentally knocked something over.” 

Hyeongjun tries not to let on that the thought alone made his heart skip a beat. “Isn’t there a table in the copy room?” 

“Are you trying to break the copy machine again?” Minhee says, laughing. “Let me finish this, and then we’ll go to your place?” 

Hyeongjun looks at the promise in his eyes and smiles. “Okay,” he says, warm, content, proud of himself. “I’ll stay and watch.”

Minhee smiles back at him, and Hyeongjun feels—well. A little bit perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> guess i'm not immune to minisong after all......
> 
> feel free to share any thoughts in the comments ^__^


End file.
